


"Off To The Races"

by OhBelieveYouMe



Category: Trouble in the Heights (2011)
Genre: Death Threats, F/M, Prostitution, Sugar Daddy, inspired by Lana Del Rey's "Off To The Races", it's all consensual, they're just both crazy trash bags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 19:30:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9399833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhBelieveYouMe/pseuds/OhBelieveYouMe
Summary: Inspired by Lana Del Rey's "Off To The Races".bolded & italicized blockquotes are lyrics from the song





	

**Author's Note:**

> this had been a three parter on Tumblr, but I just threw it all together in one here.

> **_My old man is a bad man but I can’t deny the way he holds my hand; and he grabs me, he has me by my heart. He doesn’t mind I have a Las Vegas past, he doesn’t mind I have an LA crass way about me- he loves me with every beat of his cocaine heart._ **

Tinted glass went down; “How much, Honey?” 

She rest her elbows against the rolled down window and coyly cocked her head to the side. That Escalade was not unfamiliar around these parts. Funny thing is, the little boy driving it was. “Sweet pea, where’s your Papi?” Shamelessly, she rocked onto the tips of the toes of her heels. “I don’t think you can afford me, and I like me a real man.” She slid her fingertips along her thumbs; making the meaning behind a _real man_  quite perfectly clear.

“He’s outsourcing-” The kid licked his lips, and her nose crunched in mild annoyance. “Checking prices before deciding on a purchase. Ya know, like’a business man.”

That wasn’t quite what she wanted to hear. First, the plumpest part of her peached lips was pulled under her top teeth; then she rapped her fingertips along the warm interior of the car. Of course, some heat sounded like a good idea- it took a determined hooker to spend some time on the corner. Especially when you were an _independent contractor,_ as she told her mother whenever she asked what she was doing- nobody to buy you a nice fur coat when you hit an income goal. Damned girls and their pimps left her looking silly, shivering.

Nevada didn’t like to deal with pimps, though.  
And it was quite obvious she wasn’t being cared for.

“I ‘unno, Sugarcube…” Her fingers curled against the bit of window still available, and she leaned back to her heels. “I like talking business before deliverin’ services… or gettin’ into cars.” Her blonde curls were spun around a fingertip, and her bubblegum popped as a strap fell from her shoulders after they bobbed. “It ain’t so safe for a lady like me around here-”

As if on cue, large hands appeared from the back seat, and none other than Trujillo himself used the new leverage to pull himself up from between the leather holds. Their eyes caught, and the corner girl serenely wiggled her fingertips at him from a hand propped preciously under her chin. Some shivered when they saw Nevada, others swooned, fewer turned and ran. Not her, though- oh no. She was absolutely delighted.

“If you wanna talk business, mamacita-” he jut a thumb towards the abyss of black leather from which he had appeared, and winked a green eye. If he could have seen her legs, he’d have loved to see how she had to redistribute her weight on her heels. Weak knees will do that to ya. “Why don’t you come discuss with _Papi_  your damn self?” 

Eagerly, she literally thumbed her nose at the driver, who rolled his eyes and hit the back of his skull against the head rest. Apparently propositioning prostitutes was not going to be his forte in this group.

After helping herself to the handle, she bound right into the black Escalade, and was greeted with equally excited hands curling around her thigh to drag her smoothly over the seat. “I heard lots’a ‘bout ya, you know-” she taunted while purposefully shrugging her shoulder blade between him and herself. “Girls say you pay well but you leave ‘em a lil’ bruised. So be careful mister, I’ma sweet peach.”

That was plenty to convince him to test a couple boundaries: her inconvenient blockade was confronted with teeth- and she whimpered girlishly when he bit hard enough to leave a couple teeth marks. When she jumped away, he chuckled, and wiped away at the wet skin with his rough fingertips. “You talk too fuckin’ much, ya know that?” The hand that had pulled at her coiled ‘round her waist, and she crossed her arms over her chest as he tugged her closer. “I don’t think I’m the one who has to do any convincing, mami-”

“You’re not,” she confirmed with a champagne-pop giggle, while unblushingly pressing her button nose flush against his. “It’s your wallet that’s gotta convince me, honey~”

> **_Swimming pool, glimmering darling: White bikini off with my red nail polish. Watch me in the swimming pool, bright blue ripples, you sittin’, sippin’ on your black Cristal- Oh yeah._ **

The wallet did the trick, as did the coke he had secretly stashed in a back pocket. Usually, Nevada didn’t waste drugs on whores- but this one, this one he likes. She gave him just enough sass to make him do the one thing he rarely did: question his authority. 

And so, feeling some wanderlust in his heart and pressure from his groin: he decided to take her on the vacation he had planned for quite some time; a reprieve from the violence of The Heights. There was a hotel out in California he had read about, sounded like the perfect place to use as a hideout.

She hadn’t packed a suitcase when he picked her up for the airport. So, instead, once the plane landed- he took her straight to the mall. His little friend coiled herself tightly to his arm, landing his palm and fingers against her belly while she pointed at this or that; anything she thought she _needed_  to enjoy her stay. And he bought every last stupid material item that made her blue eyes go glossy, because he loved how she snuck a grope or littered his throat with bites and kisses after she had the new shopping bag to carry. The more bags on her arm, the slower she walked, and the more she loved him. Nevada ate it up.

At night, after a long day of lounging lazily in the sun and watching her swim about the pool as if she could seduce Poseiden himself and gain control of every drop in the oceans: he’d abscond off with her to their nice hotel room. The room with the bottles of pink champagne, lacy lingerie he hand-picked because he adored them, and plenty of time to waste with late night television and her tasty mouth on his.

And she earned every damn bit of her stay.

> **_Light of my life, fire of my loins. Be a good baby, do what I want. Light of my life, fire of my loins; give me them gold coins, give me them coins…_ **

She’d felt his knuckles on her pink cheek bones a couple times but she’d never flinch: and the way she huffed and poited her lips each time made him stop after the first smack. Between finding other sources of income and happily spreading her legs for anyone who offered a reprieve from his madness- Nevada actually had to battle with the green demon of jealousy.

And why did he? Because she haunted him. She acted as if he were a commodity, something she kept on the back burner until she wanted a new coat and required a couple extra bucks. No, Nevada didn’t know what she usually charged- but he knew her trip from heels to her knees cost him more than a night out at a bar would. He was well aware there were cheaper girls he could pick up- hell, half the ones at the club only needed a drink before they floundered for him.

Not her, though.  
And Nevada loved it.

He loved how she called him, and how she trotted knowingly to the Escalade whenever he pulled up to her street. He loved how she knew what he liked, _where_  he liked it, that _thing_  he’d kill her for if she told anyone about it. He loved how her eyes lit up when he gave her the bills she had worked so hard for, how he recognized new rings on her fingers or chains ‘round her neck the next times he picked her up.

They were gifts from him, and it turned him on to think about how she must lick her thumbs before spinning out the bills he handed her at the jewelry shop. How any other johns likely doubted their spending spree when they saw the nice things someone else bought her. She was like a low-maintenance girlfriend in his eyes: he gave her what she wanted, she delivered her wares, and both sauntered away in the mornings with that lackadaisical glimmer in their eyes. Nevada would wander off to get business done and she’d head towards the mall. Both would be satisfied.

Win, Win. Until she called him and needed more than employment...

> **_And I’m off to the races, cases of Bacardi chasers. Chasin’ me all over town ‘cause he knows I’m wasted, facin’ time again on Rikers Island and I won’t get out: because I’m crazy baby, I need you to come here and save me. I’m your little scarlet, starlet, singin’ in the garden; Kiss me on my open mouth- Ready for you._ **

It was only a phone call, one he almost didn’t answer.  
It was then that Nevada learned the meaning of a ‘mutually beneficial’ relationship.  
  
AKA) she needed bail money.  
Of fucking course she did…

> **_My old man is a tough man, but he’s got a soul as sweet as blood red jam- and he shows me he knows me, every inch of my tar black soul. He doesn’t mind I have a flat broke down life. In fact he says he thinks it’s why he might like about me; admires me, the way I roll like a Rolling Stone._ **

The little sprite came out of the jail literally skipping, while fluffing her curls out of the collar of her coat. All things considered, she appeared rather satisfied with herself. To her _apparent_  surprise, considering how her brow jumped and she cocked her head to the side- she hadn't been expecting the black Escalade to be awaiting her on the curb. Hesitantly, she took careful steps forward, and shoved her fists into her pockets while bending at the waist and trying to peer through the tinted glass. 

Nevada chuckled from the dark confines of his ride: she looked like a scared girl who got called to the principal's office. Slowly, his window rolled down, just far enough for his green eyes to be seen. He winked, and she smiled that smile that made him tremble.

Upon confirmation it was indeed him, she went to sashaying the rest of the way until she could reach up to curl fingertips against the opening of the window. “Here I thought you’d make me walk all the way home by my lonesome,” she huffed onto the glass by her face, and dangled from her hand’s hold on the window while using her right to draw a little heart into the fog. “Should’a known you’re smarter than that.” Her lip was pulled into her teeth as she drew an arrow through her little condensation-creation.

He smirked, in spite of himself, and opened the car door with little warning. It sent her fumbling over her heels, but before her footing could be righted, his large hand bunched the material of her top and swiftly tugged her so she’d be forced to join him. Not that she put up much of a fight. “I ‘unno, starting to look like I’d have been smarter to never pick you up,” usually he had to grope for her or manipulate her chin to crane her lips into availability after talking prices. Not now, though- she coiled both her arms around his left, and pulled herself closer to his side. Voluntary, eager kisses went to his jaw line; and she squirmed until his hand on the arm she had claimed would slip between her thighs. “What’d you get thrown away for anyway?” He was trying, not to let her use her feminine wiles to avoid the topic, but it was warm and soft between her legs- “Cost a damn pretty penny to get your ass out.”

“What you think, Nevada?” Soft nips onto his throat as the car pulled away from the curb. “It was an undercover, _sneaky lil’ fucker_ ;” giggles accompanied the hot breath she blew in his ear- his hand between her thighs flexed to cover more soft skin and his pinky just barely grazed elastic of her panties. “It’s only the second time though and they only fined me last time-”

What was that? The tweak in his chest. For some odd reason, Nevada found himself enraged, jealous. He’d never assumed she had stopped seeing other johns, but she never openly spoke to him about it unless they were arguing and she needed ammunition. “Maybe you should calm your shit down, _bad_ girl.” At the mention of ‘ _bad’,_ he pressed his fingertips into the soft silk covering her hidden garden. She whimpered and rest her chin atop his shoulder while wriggling against his touch. “Greed’s a sin, and I’m not payin’ any fines for you fuckin’ otros hombres ( _other men_ ).”

“Shhhhh, Nevada,” she let go of him with her right arm while keeping his wrist in place by tightening her legs together. Her hand fell in his lap, and she surreptitiously pressed her palm against his growing arousal. “Don’t worry ‘bout that, lemme make up for your troub ** _le_**?” The last syllable didn’t require much in terms of mouth movement- but her tongue managed to slip out from between her lips to graze his earlobe. Goosebumps erupted on his skin, and he moaned despite the quiet company in front of the car. “I missed you, and I hate being in debt...”

Debt. His eyes rolled even while his lids fluttered. Suddenly, he doubted her, all of it. Only twice? He’s caught her prostituting with other johns at least a few times every month since he found himself seeking her out- either she was very good at keeping the police out or this wasn’t only her second time getting busted. Missed him? She hadn’t seen him for at least a week before calling and asking for bail money, a whole week, he knew it had been exactly 8 days.

Because: unfortunately, and unintentionally- Nevada _had_ missed her.  
Even if he’d never, ever want to admit to it.

“Then get to work, mamacita;” if he was going to be her personal ATM, her emergency contact- she could make it up to him. In her way. Apparently that was all he was, anyway, and she likely planned to provide services so she wouldn’t have to worry about paying him back. Who was he to deny her?

Funny thing is, he’d have preferred genuine gratitude or more of those sultry kisses than anything else, though he’d never admit it- and the pseudo-sentimental thought was buried deep in his mind as she unceremoniously undid the buckle of his belt.

> **_Likes to watch me in the glass room, bathroom, Chateau Marmont. Slippin’ on my red dress, puttin’ on my makeup. Glass film, perfume, cognac, lilac fumes; says it feels like heaven to him._ **

"Can’t a lady get some privacy?”

“You charge by the hour, cariño; I’m getting my money’s worth.”

Suddenly the room was flooded in the gauzy mist of good perfume, brought out of the little pink bottle with a couple quick squeezes to the rubber bulb. She placed it back on the ornate vanity tray; glass clinked against glass and she coquettishly caught his gaze in the reflection of the mirror. “Don’t you find it a little disenchanting to see your wares before they’re properly prettied up?”

Nevada wagged his head side to side while taking a hefty sip from his glass. Dark liquid swirled inside- she guessed it was Scotch. “I like to know exactly what I’m payin’ for,” if she was going to taunt him, he could play right along. Truth was: She was always pretty. So, so pretty. Even now, with her curls still damp from the shower and dripping thin lines of water down the skin of her back and shoulders, with her face bare and pinked from the heat emanating from the steamy room, in that emerald silk slip that dipped low low, _low_ on her back. “Get a glimpse at what you keep under the wrapping, you know...”

“You talk about me like I’m one of your bags of coke,” She sprayed something in her hair, it smelled like a field of fresh flowers. 

He simply shrugged, and bounced himself off the door frame with a gentle push. “You talk about me like I’m a fuckin’ credit card,” he drug his fingertip along her shoulder, slipping up over her collarbones until he could lay his palm over the top of her sternum and coil long fingers round her throat. She didn’t so much as shiver, and he watched her eyes remain locked on his through their reflections. “If you gotta problem with being a product, maybe we should consider a new-” soft kisses pressed to the sensitive stretch of skin behind her ear; the stubble on his chin scratched against her neck and she had to brace herself with hands placed smartly atop the counter in front of her, “arrangement.”

Her back arched, and her derriere was pressed against his pelvis. Nevada sat down his glass with little need for further convincing, and slid the palm of his free hand over her belly. “What kinda’ arrangement, Nevada?”

The fuck did she think he was proposing? “The kind where you don’t go away after the time is u ** _p_**.” His lips popped loudly by her ear, and she shamelessly pressed two fingers to his face to subtly push him away from her. A couple more wiggles got the point across, and he hopelessly dropped his hands and released her. “The kind where I don’t gotta share,” his voice was raising with his agitation, but he still watched close as she fluttered off and thumbed through a couple dress options. “I hate sharing, mamacita...”

Upon deciding a maroon dress would do, she unblushingly slithered the smooth material over her frame. It fell with a flutter and Nevada was wondering when the Hell red had become his favorite color. “What’s the fun in that?” Past him, as if he weren’t even standing in the way, she trotted back to the mirror with her makeup bag. “You’ll get bored,” her face was dusted with powder and she grazed her cheekbones with the shiny makeup he hadn’t really noticed before, “and how would I get all these pretty things?” To prove her point, she raised hands in the air and wriggled her fingers; gold rings glimmered back at him and he suddenly wished he had made her commit prior to giving her those little gifts. “Men don’t keep bein’ nice when they don’t have to, I know-”

“I’d spoil you rotten,” Nevada interrupted gruffly while snatching the glass he had sat down back into his hands. Curiously, he watched on as she put lipstick on and finished applying mascara to her lashes. Those long lashes she’d stare up at him through, or bat when she found something new she wanted. “Even more rotten than you already are-”

Her rolling eyes convinced him to stop pressing the matter. For now, at least. “Come on,” she urged, breaking the conversation short and tangling her fingertips in his after plucking her pearl earrings into her ear lobes. “If you’re gonna take me somewhere nice, we betta’ get goin,” crimson lips plumped to a royal princess pout, “or we’ll never get a table.”

Nevada grunted, but mindlessly allowed himself to be led away. Following after her felt right, in a world where nothing else really did anymore. “I can always get a table,” he growled, and she coyly glanced back over her shoulder as she walked through the hallway, “I always get whatever I want.”

Except her, apparently. Except her.

> **_Light of his life, fire of his loins- Keep me forever, tell me you own me. Light of your life, fire of your loins: tell me you own me, give me them coins._ **

Nevada had been looking for her.  
Unfortunately for her, he succeeded.

"NO MORE-” He plucked a lamp up from the nightstand, and recklessly threw the decor across the room. She lept out of the way and watched with a fallen jaw as the lovely antique shattered against the door she had just been standing in front of. That was going to be hard to explain to room service. “I’m done with this shit,” he approached her in a rush, bumping the bewildered girl with his chest and sending her tumbling back-first into the wall, “I’m done with your shit.” Three fingertips prodded hard into her sternum, and she squeaked while obediently backing up until she was trapped, “No more of these johns, cariño- I can’t even do business around here without runnin’ into someone you’ve fucked.”

Thank god her client had ran as soon as he stormed into the room, she certainly felt better about his rage only being directed at her. “The fuck do you want from me?” Trying to deescalate the scene just slightly, she stretched her arms high above her head, and planted her knuckles against the wall she was backed against. Methodically, she brought up a leg, so her knee would hit his thigh and her heel could be planted on the plaster; a feeble attempt to keep forced space between them. “I’m a lil’ business lady, Nevada,” her tongue ran along her top lip and she slithered her hips back and forth, “you never complain when I’m workin’ with you-”

Shamelessly, he pushed her leg to the side, and curled a hand under her thigh so he could hike it up to his waist. Closer still; the pressure of his being was almost overwhelming, and her breathing became shallow as he pressed his body hard against hers. “You’re done working,” his voice was low, dangerous, and she pout her lips at him in a final act of contrition. Instead, he took hold of her chin in his free hand and gruffly pulled upwards, until she whined in pain at the awkward stretch of her neck. 

“You’re **mine**  now,” those green eyes shooting daggers her way led her to believe this was not an offer. “You want money, you fuckin’ tell me.” He bowed, and tightened his hold on her thigh so hard there would be bruises left behind the next day. “I call, you answer,” his lips on her throat made her blood chill and warmth pool into her core- the ice cold buckle on his jeans pressed against her pelvis over her dress and she whimpered. “You need me,” the last promise was whispered, and she closed her own eyes as he let go of her face- even without the physical prompting, she remained still to allow him access for the territorial hickies he went to leave on her skin. Anyone who saw them would know she had a man, any time she saw them in the mirror she’d remember who’s she was. “I got you, cariño.”

Well this was a Hell of a proposition. 

“You got me, Nevada?” Recklessly, she arched her back, and her pelvis went flush against his. The hands that were above her head fell thoughtfully to lace over his shoulders, and she toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck. This time, she felt the goosebumps, and she smirked boldly while running her thumbs along the curve of his neck. “You wanna be my one and only?”

He did. He absolutely did; “Si,” he fussed in an airy whisper, and she rocked forward to place a hot kiss on the hollow of his throat. Her crimson paint left a lip print behind- if he was going to gift bruises, she’d give him art. “Si,” Nevada further confirmed, and slid his free hand down the thigh that was holding her up. A twist, a pull, a lift- and he had both of her legs over his hips. She hooked her ankles behind him and squealed girlishly, until he silenced her by going to press his lips against hers. “And you’re mine.”

It was never really agreed upon or confirmed- but she sang his name all night long as he made good use of the hotel room he had infiltrated. And that night, after they could barely catch their breaths or decide whether or not it was too hot, she fell asleep with her legs tangled in his and her cheek pressed over his heartbeat. Nevada stayed awake most of the evening, afraid she’d decide to leave in the middle of the night if he dozed off- but it was hard to fight sleep after the carnal cardio they had indulged in all night.

The next morning, he was awakened with sunlight pouring in through the curtains, and his little lady curled tighter to his side when the songbirds began chirping. 

Nevada always gets what he wants.

> **_Yo I’m off to the races, laces. Leather on my waist is tight and I am fallin’ down. I can see your face is shameless, Cipriani’s basement- Love you, but I’m going down._ **

It had been a couple weeks into their ‘ _new arrangement’_ when Nevada finally decided to share her beauty with his fellow colleagues. 

“You’re gonna be good,” he had advised her before they entered the club, and she huffed at the insinuation that she’d be anything but; “You do what they say, you keep it cute, and you don’t be rude. You got it?” Her eyes rolled, and she made the universal sign for a vow of silence- pretending to lock her lips up with an invisible key.

That’d have to do, Nevada decided.

In the VIP section of the club, she had chosen to remain oddly silent. Was it the strangers around them, the lights flashing, the bad music? Nevada wasn’t sure, but there was business to attend to, so he left her alone just long enough to go talk ‘to a man’.

“You know what, Honey-” An older man in a nice suit, one who hadn’t approached until the king of the heights had trotted off, approached her despite the disinterested snarl on her face. He slid onto the bench alongside her, and proudly went to filling her empty champagne flute with more bubbles, “you look awfully familiar.”

Curiously, her brows bounced, and she bobbed her shoulders. “I’m not awfully nothin’,” she conceded simply before taking the offered glass. “I just got onea’ those faces, see?” Teasingly, she propped her knuckles under her chin, and gave a cheesy smile while fluttering her eyelashes. 

The ‘gentleman’ tisked his tongue, and dropped a hand so it landed atop her thigh. She twitched, and physically trembled at the shameless touch. “Pretty sure last time I saw _one’a those faces_ ,” his eyes narrowed onto hers, and the voice that had been previously pleasant dropped to the dangerous growl she was getting all too used to; “I woke up without my wallet...”

Without warning, her cheeks went pale, and she raised the glass to her lips while trying her damndest to figure out a next course of action. 

Oh, shit...

> **_God I'm so crazy, baby, I'm sorry that I'm misbehaving. I'm your little harlot, starlet, Queen of Coney Island- raising hell all over town. Sorry 'bout it..._ **

Nevada came back to see she was gone- vanished. Silently, he grabbed onto a nearby fistful of leather, bringing the attention of a guard towards the emptied seat. A vague motion, and the boy quickly pointed towards the door leading out to the alley.

“ _El Toro_ snatched her up-” both of them flinched at the name of a visiting mob boss, one who even made Trujillo bite his tongue. Obviously, from the sweat beads on his forehead, he had taken time to weigh which would be the worst decision: to try and stop El Toro, or to suffer the aftermath of advising Trujillo where his girl went.

A swift punch to his gut and the boy fell, while Nevada nearly broke out into a run towards the referenced exit. Still, he was convinced he made the right choice. 

Honestly, Nevada expected to walk out and find her on her knees. Or on her back, in some dingy car with that old man since he likely wouldn’t sully his leather seats for a whore at a club. Even before he had found them, his nerves were igniting, and he clenched his jaw tighter with every step he managed closer to the surely damning scene...

Oh how wrong he had been. 

Instead; Nevada found her pinned up against the wall, purse spilled and makeup littering the ground at her feet, struggling to keep standing on the tippy-toes of her stilettos. One man held her wallet in his hand and was fishing through the folds, another had her held against the bricks with a well placed grip clutched around her throat. She was sputtering, fingers curled hopelessly around the wrists that held the hands cutting off her air supply. 

To the side, watching on- none other than El Toro himself. Someone Nevada was very familiar with, and would typically choose not to cross.

Unfortunately, this situation wasn’t typical.

“The fuck is goin’ on here?” Without permission or interference from any cohorts, Nevada advanced, and gruffly shoved at the thug who had been choking her. The poor girl fell to her knees, whimpering and gasping for air while trying to manage his name.

“Not your concern, Nevada-” the boss shrugged his shoulders before kicking at tubes of lipstick on the ground, sending them scattering across the pavement. “This is between me and your whore.”

Whore. No, she was _his whore_  a couple weeks ago. Now, she was more- and he could not allow this. “What’d she do?” His hands went to his hips, and he possessively stepped between the fallen girl and the sparse crowd. “It’s not polite to put your hands on a woman, especially when you’re not in your own territory-”

El Toro’s brows bounced at the immense concern being expressed; “It’s not polite to get into business you don’t belong in either, Mr. Ramirez.”

Nevada wasn’t trying to be polite.  
"Anything involving her is my business, Señor.”

“You’re a pimp now, amigo?” Cold chuckling came from deep within El Toro’s chest- though his glare certainly did not suggest that he found any of this funny. “Maybe I should come after you for the ten grand, then...”

Ten grand? Nevada’s eyes went wide and he glanced over his shoulder at his little harlot- she whined and buried her eyes in the denim of his pant leg.

“She’s more trouble than she’s worth, Nevada;” El Toro tisked his tongue just as he had done to her in the club, she shuddered from her spot on the ground. “I’ll be taking her off your hands, give her a real job,” he smirked snidely and spread his arms out into the air, before approaching the downtrodden Trujillo and lying a firm pat on his shoulder. “She’s gonna earn back what she stole doing what she does best. I can even find you a better whore, chico- we all end with the world at an even tilt.”

Nevada’s heart sunk in his chest. Take her? Maybe she was a pain sometimes, but he’d never been one to avoid trouble before. Why start now?

A gun, the one he kept on him at all times, was pulled smartly from his pocket. No hesitation as he aimed and cocked it, from either the assailant or the intended target. Their eyes locked, and Nevada very slowly began to wag his head side to side; “No, Jefe( _boss_ ). She’s coming with me.”

El Toro didn’t flinch; he wasn’t afraid. This level of disrespect though, it wouldn’t be tolerated. Not only had he lost a small fortune to a prostitute, but now Trujillo himself was intervening and not even offering to right the problem. This wasn’t how men conducted business. "You’re a dead man, Nevada.” This had escalated too quickly, got too hot far too fast. “You’re wasting your potential for a corner girl, you know I can’t let you threaten me and let it go.”

“I’ll take my chances,” Nevada advised simply, while keeping the gun aimed and bending at the waist to gather his little lady’s arm up in his hand. A swift tug, and she was on her feet, clutching desperately to the back of his jacket and trembling like a leaf on a twig. 

El Toro shook his head side to side, “Hope you run fast, chico. I’ll get what’s mine.” Raucous, bellowing laughter flooded the night air and burned devilishly into Nevada’s memory; “Both financially and respectfully.”

> **_My old man is a thief and I'm gonna stay and pray with him till the end. But I trust in the decision of the Lord to watch over us; take him when he may, if he may. I'm not afraid to say that I'd die without him._ **

As soon as they escaped into his Escalade, Nevada’s nerves finally kicked in. Fight or flight had been his fuel, but now it fell away to reality- and there was a great chance he was now completely screwed. Roughly, hard enough to undoubtedly leave bruises, he snatched at her face and shouted loud enough to make her ears ring; “The fuck is that about?” 

“I-” she wailed, little tears falling from those glossy eyes and over her cheeks. “Nevada, I was desperate, I didn’t have anything and I needed to-”

“So you fucking rob a mob boss?” Fingers and his thumb dug into her cheeks, and she shivered when he shook in frustration. His free hand gripped her arm, so he could rattle her and hopefully bring some sense into her skull; “Are you a fuckin **_idiot_** , chiquita!?” Screaming, in her ears, she shuddered between his berating and abuse. “When did you go and get yourself into this fuckin’ mess, you stupid stupid girl?!”

Whimpering, but he released her face so she could speak. How kind of him, she grabbed onto his hand to show her reverence. “A few weeks ago, it was before you told me not to-”

He spat in indignation, the wad of saliva landed on her thigh, but she made no efforts to wipe it away. “I was fucking paying you then, you weren’t desperate, you lying little bitch-” upon pointing out of the obvious, his rage boiled, and he growled to try and settle himself before he started whaling on her the way he would his men. “I shouldn’t have to tell you not to roll a boss for ten fuckin’ grand-”

“I didn’t know,” She begged, and longingly dug her arms into his jacket, slithering her fingertips along the hem of his shirt so she could feel for his skin. Something substantial, something to hold onto. “He said he’ll fuckin’ kill me, Nevada, he’s gonna kill me-” for the first time since he had found her, she looked afraid. Legitimately afraid- pale faced, hot sweats, shaking breaths.

Maybe he couldn’t fathom how she got herself into this mess, and likely it would be best for him to cut their ties and go back to El Toro groveling for forgiveness. How precisely does one destroy that red string of fate, though? “Nah, Honey,” her head was cradled to his chest, and Nevada peppered all of her fevered skin he could reach with kisses. “He’ll have to take me first.”

> **_Who else is gonna put up with me this way? I need you, I breathe you, I'd never leave you. They would rue the day I was alone without you._ **

The death threats came pouring in. A couple good soldiers wound up missing. Notes were left under his door, at his club, on his car. Business began to dwindle. His men began to distance themselves, for their own good. He got rid of the gun and tried to cash in favors; praying he’d come up with the ten grand.

That evening, and for the days after, Nevada kept her with him everywhere he went. There was never a moment she was left alone, oh no- and she was so, so good for him. Silent and lovely, always holding onto his sleeve or climbing up into his lap so she could drape over his shoulders. Unlike before, when she’d flutter and flirt with the room; she became his most stunning accessory. Even Nevada changed; no more girls out in back alleys, no more dancing or body shots off horny broads looking for a good night.

When they stayed in, which they did most often now, she’d keep the distance between them minimal. Showers were shared, so she could close her eyes when rinsing off without crying and she could remind Nevada precisely how thankful she was for his company. There was no need for more than one sofa- whenever he sat, she’d curl up at his side and rest her pretty face against his shoulder. Evenings were long; she wouldn’t sleep until she was exhausted and he assisted the best he could with his magic fingers and her performing solutions for his personal needs, and she’d awake whenever he was too far away for her to cling to.

They felt strong and secluded, Nevada had always thought he was invincible- until the day she answered the door. A package, with her name scrawled across the top in bold black letters, “Oh, Nevada, you got me somethin’?” She had asked from the other room in the happiest voice he had heard from her in days, and he tried to storm back in before she made the mistake he knew she would.

The package wasn’t from him.  
Inside, covered in blood that stained most of the inside of the cardboard box: the gun Nevada had thought he made disappear.

His sweet girl howled, and tears sprung to her eyes: Was there no escape?

> **_You're lyin' with your gold chain on, cigar hangin' from your lips, I said: "Hun' you never looked so beautiful as you do now, my man."_ **

Nevada held her face in his hands, fingertips curling near her ears, the pads of his thumbs tracing succinct lines along her jaw. Silence- as she reached up to coil her own fingers around his wrists. Leaning forward, he pressed his forehead against hers, and sighed loud enough to break her heart. This was all her fault, and she knew it- yet her man stood strong, she should have devoted herself to him sooner.

“I-” he was struggling; to stay above water, to breathe, to find his words. The neighborhood he had worked so hard to protect was closing in around him, becoming his burial tomb. What good were all the riches stored away in warehouses and his apartment when he couldn’t even keep his home a sanctuary? “I dunno what to do,” the confession came with an uncharacteristic tremble; and his sweet catalyst whimpered in response to his desperation.

“Nevada,” she crooned quietly, and lifted her face so their noses came to touch. Nuzzling further, she went to kiss his closed eyelids and the fallen corners of his lips. “Baby, let’s get the fuck out of here. Let’s just go-”

Trujillo didn’t run from **anyone**. Even El Toro.  
But; Nevada would gladly go away, with her. Anywhere.

> _**And we're off to the races, places. Ready, set, the gate is down and now we're goin' in: To Las Vegas chaos, Casino Oasis, honey it is time to spin.** _

She was laid out on her belly across a plastic pool chair in California, hair dyed dark in a menial effort to make her look different than she used to. Still beautiful, of course, there was no way to disguise her loveliness away. The sun kissed her skin, causing her to shimmer and sparkle as the water droplets from the pool were warmed up off of her. 

The fingertip slipping down her bare arm made her jump, and she scrunched her face when she lifted herself up from her seat so she could see who had touched her. Upon recognition of the familiar face, a cheshire grin pulled onto her lips, and she eagerly rolled onto her back so she could gaze up at him. “Hey, Baby,” her right arm reached for him, and she ran her hand up his shin until she made it to his knee. Thoughtfully, she tugged, and he obediently shifted towards her. “You wanna sit?”

Without verbally confirming her suggestion, Nevada gladly took a seat alongside her, managing to fit just fine with his hip pressed into the curve of her waist. Mindlessly, he admired her ivory bathing suit top, running his hands along the braided strings that helped keep her modest. He drew painfully slow lines -down from her sternum, around the dip of her navel- until he could trace the beginning of her bikini bottom along her pelvis. She squirmed under his touch, biting on to her bottom lip and lying sprawled out on display so he could explore all he wanted. “You bein’ good?” He bent down, so he could whisper in her ear and leave kisses on her cheek. “My good girl?”

“Si, Nevada,” of course. Now, she was always good. _His_ good girl, _his_ one and only. It had taken time and fear to bring her to this point, but now it was unquestionable and unshakable. Lazily, she lay her arm over his lap, and toyed with the strings coming from the waistband of his trunks. “Te amo, Darling-”

Escape had become Nirvana with her at his side, and her admissions of love reassured his decision to keep her each and every time she spoke the phrase.

Nevada had made many mistakes in his life;  
but she was no longer one of them. 

> **_Boy you're so crazy, baby, I love you forever not maybe. You are my one true love, you are my one true love._ _You are my one true love..._ **


End file.
